The Word Vomit Alternative
by Analyn d'Ettore
Summary: Sheldon revealed a bit more than he meant to on the night of his fifth anniversary with Amy that leads to an entirely different resolution.


Summary: Sheldon revealed a bit more than he meant to on the night of his fifth anniversary with Amy, leading to an entirely different resolution.

Disclaimer: TBBT does not belong to me.

* * *

From the moment he emerged from the womb Dr Sheldon Lee Cooper remembered and neatly ordered everything in his tiny ordered universe. As an infant he preferred suckling from Mary Cooper's right breast where his Vulcan hearing could better pick up the soothing rhythm of her steady heartbeat. As a toddler he found solstice in his room and solitude, where he could think in peace without the constant interruptions from Missy and George Jr, and where he could avoid his parent's screaming and George Sr's alcoholism. When he first went to school at age five—and feeling no small indignity for a child of his intellect being placed in kindergarten—he always sat in the front, three seats from the left where he could best see the chalk board while also being conveniently far away from Missy's preferred seat in the back right of the classroom where she was too far away for her spitballs to reach him—the air resistance on the little wad of wetted paper was large enough that no amount of force a five year old could exert on it would allow the spitball to cover more than half the distance between them. Rather than deal with the chaos of recess, he found sanctuary in the library where kind old Mrs Wilson guided him through the different sections and let him read in peace where no other children volunteered to go. It was there, in his haven of musty old papers, he first read about the transmission of germs and diseases and became even more grateful for his refuge from germ-infested sandboxes and playgrounds, and it was where Mrs Wilson gave him his first bottle of Purell. By the time he was seven and ready to graduate elementary school, he had read all the college-level physics textbooks Mrs Wilson ordered specifically for him to read when his parents refused to buy them for him, insisting he'd prefer little league soccer instead.

At age five, he wrote his first paper entitled _A Proof That Algebraic Topology Can Never Have a Non-self contradictory Set of Abelian Groups_. When his parents did not understand his achievement, he brought the paper he published two years previously to his math teacher. She did not understand it either.

He begged his mother to be advanced in grade levels. His elementary teachers were not smart enough to teach him anymore. George Sr insisted he stayed where he was. He did not believe in his mother's deity, but if he did, he would have prayed to escape the hell that was his childhood. Only a month into his fifth grade at age ten he knew his ordered little universe needed to shift to getter accommodate him. Mrs Wilson let him log onto the library's computers where he applied to the University of Texas's physics department, and he was accepted with a full-ride scholarship.

George Sr backhanded him across the face when he told his parent's about his acceptance, but his mother's reasoning, with Meemaw's assistance, eventually prevailed. To the University of Texas Sheldon went.

But East Texas was cloying, and he knew he had to move. He needed to be away from his alcoholic father and his mother's ridiculous religious babble. He and Mrs Wilson sat down at the a library table with a giant atlas and she explained to him what the different parts of the country were like. She was well traveled and knew everything. The East Coast was too political—Sheldon Cooper did not appreciate the unpredictability of political compromise and election cycles left to the whim of the unintelligent masses. The South was too much like East Texas. The midwest too cold. Wyoming and Montana too close to a potential volcanic site. The south west had unpredictable forest fires and the dry, desert heat reminded him too much of home. The northwest was too rainy. California had earthquakes, but of all the potential dangers and drawbacks, those were the least horrible. Those he could prepare for. With an emergency preparedness kit and a proper evacuation plan, he could safely move to California. He applied to UCLA and Caltech, was accepted into both, and it was to Caltech that he went. Caltech had the best physics department, and physics was the best thing to study, hence he would complete his PhD at Caltech. At the age of sixteen, he defended his thesis and was awarded his first PhD, and with East Texas a memory of a miserable childhood, he went to do his postdoc in Germany, a visiting professor, as far away from his family home as possible. It was also the best place for him to try for his Nobel Prize.

Germany, as it turned out, did not agree with him. He learned German, but still no one could understand him. It was crowded and chaotic, and try as he might he could not avoid the germs. The diet gave him intense digestive distress. Caltech was his sanctuary, and he threw everything into his research. When a position at Caltech's faculty opened up, he applied and was chosen. Sheldon Cooper did not suffer from silly emotions such as relief, but he felt it as he waited in line at Berlin Tegel airport, flight A753 to LHR, continuing onto LAX and then a cab to Pasadena. He universe would once again be restored.

He loved his new job. He made more money than he could spend. His father died, and his palpable relief he refused to feel guilty for. His roommates were more troublesome until he found Leonard Hofstadter, a man he could finally shape to fit into his ordered universe, albeit with some changes. The introduction of the couch was hard to handle, but then he found his spot, perfectly situated, even if it did come with the company of Howard Wolowitz and Rajesh Koothrappali.

His world was finally his to control. He was, at long last, comfortable.

Then Penny entered, and though he disliked the disruption and unpredictability she brought at first, Leonard forced him to like her, and she fit into his perfectly ordered universe.

Every challenge and struggle thrown at him he was able to subdue and shape to fit into his perfectly ordered existence where he dedicated his life to three things: his Nobel Prize, order and cleanliness, and Vulcan kolinahr.

His life, ordered and controlled from his infancy, fell apart the day Raj planted the dirty sock in his apartment and refused to tell him where it was until he went on the date with Amy Farrah Fowler, the girl from the hokum dating website.

She said any physical contact up to and including coitus was off the table; he bought her tepid water; his entire world as he knew it tilted on it's axis, a planetary impossibility but no other words were suitable to adequately describe the disorienting affect he felt when he was around Amy Farrah Fowler.

Theirs was a relationship of the mind, for she was a girl intelligent enough to keep up with him, even if she did score two IQ points less than his 187, and he could debate with her in a way no one else could. Their relationship went from on Skype to in-person. She befriended Penny, called her bestie, and adopted the blonde's annoying habits.

Amy Farrah Fowler, a girl previously beyond reproach, began drinking. She wanted to be his girlfriend. She wanted to hold hands. Then she wanted to kiss. Then she wanted coitus. If that was the woman he met in the coffee shop all those years ago, he would have left without a second though, but the truth was he couldn't anymore. Dr Sheldon Cooper feared change.

He was terrified of loosing Amy Farrah Fowler.

He resisted the urge to pull his hand away whenever she held it on date night, and instead tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of microscopic germs crawling all over him. She kissed him and he did not flee. She goaded him into kissing her of the train, and rather than keeping to the chaste peck on the lips, he forgot why they were fighting and instead stepped closer to her where he was overpowered by the warm roughness of her lips on his and the overwhelming scent of her dandruff shampoo and the feminine yet unmistakable essence that was Amy Farrah Fowler. He pulled her closer to him and placed his hand gently on her hips to hold her warm body close to him where she belonged. She was _his_. And up until that point in his life, kolinahr worked but not that time. He could not temper his excitement and he ended the kiss before it could make itself known.

If there was one thing he could not stand, it was the thought of engaging in coitus. With Amy, his body and brain betrayed him.

Five years and one day ago he didn't even know her name. Now, she was as integral to his universe as physics, no pun intended. He took her out to dinner and paid for their fifth anniversary date, as was stipulated in the relationship agreement, and she drove him back to his apartment. He invited her upstairs for their contractual end-of-date kiss. He sat down in his spot and felt the comfort calm his tenseness from being out in public, but that calm seeped away once Amy Farrah Fowler sat in her spot by his side. He leaned towards her and kissed her, and she melted into his touch. But even more than that, his previously ordered world disappeared, as if vaporized by a phaser. He could not control himself when he was around her. He _wanted_ her. It was illogical and unnecessary. Theirs was a relationship of the mind, nothing more. He needed to get rid of his primal desires urging him to take Amy Farrah Fowler into his bedroom and make the metaphorical beast with two backs, leave his mark on her until everyone knew that Amy Farrah Fowler was claimed. _His_.

Lust was irrational, coitus unsanitary, and his thoughts ungentlemanly. Raised as a Texas gentleman his mother would be ashamed of him. His good for nothing father would be proud. The southern gentleman in him could not believe the direction his thoughts often took when he was around her, and his mother would give him a tongue lashing if she knew.

He needed to think about something else. Anything else. He recited the first thousand digits of pi in his head. It did not work. He moved on to phi, tau, Plank's constant, and Avogadro's number. No success. He recited the Schrödinger wave equation, reworked the Laplace transformation over and over again, and yet nothing worked.

Derivative. Curves. Breasts. Amy Farrah Fowler.

Mario. Princess. Tiara. Amy Farrah Fowler.

The Flash. Commitment. Marriage. Amy Farrah Fowler.

No matter what he tried to think of every time he was left thinking of one thing: her.

Amy pulled away slightly and murmured against his lips, "Can you believe it's been five years since our first date?"

That way lay the Romulan Neutral Zone. He could not go there. It was forbidden by the Treaty of Algeron and as an honorary Starfleet officer he was obligated to uphold it. He couldn't talk about their relationship. When he was with Amy Farrah Fowler, he felt fuzzy inside. Her kisses intoxicated him as much as alcohol, and he could not get lost into her. Not now. He had to remain in control of his emotions. Kolinahr did not work, as it now failed to do around her. He needed to say something. She was waiting for him to say something, but he couldn't talk about their relationship. It was dangerous territory, and if they did, he was not sure he could control himself around her, and that terrified him.

The Flash. Before Amy spoke he'd been thinking about the Flash.

"I know. Do you think I should start watching the Flash tv show?"

Kissy Face Amy turned into Angry Face Amy, and he could not understand the cause of the transformation. He hadn't said anything wrong. He'd asked her a question. New Amy was mind boggling and he didn't understand her most of the time even though he exerted 13.25% of his brain power to trying to understand Amy Farrah Fowler. It took him thirty years, but he finally understood his father when he said womenfolk were irrational and unpredictable, qualities he did not like but reluctantly accepted in his exceptional Amy Farrah Fowler.

"That's what you're thinking about?"

Incredulity was the tone he thought he should assign to her, but he wasn't good at emotions and he couldn't be sure.

When Angry Face Amy made her appearance, he knew that he had to tread carefully with his words. He did not understand why. Everything he said was absolutely delightful, but Amy Farrah Fowler didn't always think that. He would tread carefully. He hated arguing in general. He hated it more when it involved Amy Farrah Fowler.

"One of the things."

There. That was a very neutral and diplomatic answer, worthy of the great Captain Picard.

"Are any of them me?"

That tone was harder to discern. Disappointment? Anger? Perhaps something else? He didn't know which was the least awful of the choices, only that he disliked all of them equally.

Years of knowing Penny taught him that the only correct answer was an immediate yes.

"Yes. I thought I can't decide if I should watch the Flash tv show. I know. I'll ask Amy. Anyway."

He didn't want to talk. Amy Farrah Fowler confused him like no one else could. Leonard. Raj. Howard. Penny. Bernadette. He could predict them all. He knew what they would do even when they themselves were confused. Amy Farrah Fowler was chaos. One minute she wanted them to kiss, the next she wanted to talk. He did not understand her.

He leaned back in for another kiss, eager to pacify Angry Face Amy and turn her back into Kissy Face Amy. He much preferred Kissy Face Amy. He felt the sharp sting of rejection—a feeling did not understand but stored away for later analysis—as Amy pushed him away and made quite clear she did not want to kiss him anymore. He would never admit it, but her rejection stung him, and when hurt, Sheldon retreated into his own universe where he reigned supreme and all else fell in admiration at the feet of the genius Dr Sheldon Cooper. He did not have time to give his defensive retort, _You're right. You did kind of kill the mood_ , before Amy spoke instead.

"Is that _all_ you're thinking about?"

That tone was disappointment. He was 97.3% certain with a 0.2% margin of error. What was he thinking about when he asked her about the Flash? His eidetic memory quickly found the answer. Watching the Flash meant commitment. It was his and Amy's five year anniversary and he was committed to her. Meemaw said commitment meant marriage and marriage meant the princess cut diamond engagement rink currently stashed in his desk drawer. And marriage. That meant children and the rest of his life with Amy Farrah Fowler. His life expectancy was shorter than hers but not by much, and she was younger than him but only just. Unless he lived long enough for his conscious to be transferred to technology, she would outlive him. That was the way it should be. Dr Sheldon Cooper could not loose Amy Farrah Fowler. He might not admit it, even to himself, but he did not think he could handle a life without her in it. Not now that he knew her. And to think the great physicist would not have been brought down to so low a level but for a piece of soiled hosiery.

"No," he said after a short moment. He could no longer interpret Amy Farrah Fowler's facial expression. She was a blank slate as his father would have said.

"Tell me everything you're thinking about," Amy said.

"I'm thinking starting to watch a television show that might run for years isn't a decision to take lightly. I'm wrestling with a big commitment issue here. If I start a tv show, I'm in it for the long haul. If I start watching the Flash tv show then I'm stuck with it and I want to be committed to it. But what if it is cancelled like Firefly? I can't handle that type of disappointment. I need the Flash tv show too much and I know from Raj's silly song that I have to 'put a ring on it' but I don't when it would be appropriate to ask and there's no social convention telling me when to—"

At first, Amy was infuriated by Sheldon's babble, but as he continued, she realized what he was saying without actually saying, and she cut him off with her startled "Sheldon? You're not talking about some stupid tv show anymore?"

Sheldon looked up, equal parts confused and offended. "Some 'stupid tv show'? I'll have you know the Flash tv show is not stupid. It's very important to me."

She knew she was beyond smart, a genius just like her boyfriend, but in this instance, she was not sure exactly what was going on. Was this Sheldon's juvenile love of comic books speaking? Or was that his way of telling her that she was important to him? When it came to Sheldon, she just couldn't be sure.

"Sheldon, are you . . . do you want to marry me?" Amy asked, unsure how she would take the rejection if her hypothesis proved wrong.

"Obviously," Sheldon said, forgetting who he was speaking to for a moment as his brain goblins took over and released everything that was on his mind, "I wouldn't have brought back Meemaw's ring if I didn't want . . ." Sheldon finally looked at Amy and stopped speaking, knowing that he had said to much. He meant to keep the ring a secret until he found a way to propose to Amy Farrah Fowler. She wasn't supposed to know about it. Curse his inability to lie.

"Meemaw's ring," Amy repeated breathlessly. Angry Face Amy was gone. This expression Sheldon did recognize. It was Monkey Face Amy, the blissful look she got whenever she was around monkeys. Amy knew Sheldon loved his Meemaw, and that he had Meemaw's ring and wanted to marry her was almost too much. "Oh Sheldon," she said. Her face softened to reflect the love she felt for him.

She pushed him that night. Amy was an expert in reading her boyfriend. She'd pushed him into making uncomfortable declarations regarding his feelings, and she knew that look on his face too. He was uncomfortable and about to flee. Fleetingly, she wondered what it would be like to have a boyfriend who wasn't a flight risk. But what she had was a Sheldon Cooper; brilliant and emotionally stunted was just how she loved him.

"Yes," she breathed out.

"Yes what?" Sheldon was genuinely confused. He hadn't asked a question. Women were baffling. Amy Farrah Fowler was no exception. Even if she was exceptional.

Amy sobered her manner to one of clinical detachment that, as past experience taught her, would keep Sheldon from fleeing.

"Yes I'll marry you." She looked into his eyes as she said this and felt like she could drown in their green depths.

Sheldon was confused. Somehow, his attempt to divert Amy's attention by talking about the Flash failed and instead they instead turned towards talk of marriage, the one subject he really wanted to avoid. Amy Farrah Fowler couldn't know what a hippie he was turning into.

"But I didn't ask." His eidetic memory meant he recalled their conversation exactly and the simple fact was he did not propose.

Now it was Sad Face Amy. He didn't like her either. It made him feel all sorts of weird urges to comfort her even without the requirements of the well-defined parameters of the relationship agreement.

Amy was confused. Was she wrong about him again? She thought him talking about getting his Meemaw's ring—what other purpose could it have?—was his Sheldonesque way of proposing.

"Oh." Amy stood up and walked away from him, and from her hunched over posture, she wasn't unhappy. Unsure what to do but knowing he had to make her happy, he moved towards her.

"Amy," he said. He even risked a brief touch on her arm. He could feel the heat of her body even through her thick cardigan.

"I need to go," Amy said. She couldn't be around Sheldon any more after her disappointment and embarrassment. It was too hard.

"But Amy," Sheldon protested. He got no further. He had nothing left to protest. Per the Relationship Agreement, he'd fulfilled all his obligations as The Boyfriend on their fifth anniversary date night. He'd taken her out for dinner and paid. He brought her back to his apartment and given her the obligatory end of date night kiss. Contractually, all his obligations were fulfilled and he had no reason to have Amy stay longer. Except that for some strange reason, he really did not want her to leave.

"Sheldon. I really need to go. I need some time to step back and evaluate our relationship."

She was breaking up with him? She couldn't break up with him. She couldn't. He didn't know what he could do to stop her. He also knew he couldn't live without Amy Farrah Fowler as his girlfriend.

That was the problem. Amy Farrah Fowler was his _girlfriend_. She didn't want to be his _girlfriend_ any longer. No. She'd told him she wanted to be his wife. It was a simple solution really. He already had the ring and his mom's approval. Amy already said yes. Clearly she wanted to marry him. He might not be ready yet, but he knew that was the direction their relationship was heading. It was earlier than anticipated, but then again, there was one point when he thought Leonard would be his roommate forever and yet that was no longer true. He could do it. He could force himself to be ready. For Amy Farrah Fowler, he tolerated many things that made him uncomfortable. This would simply be another one of them.

She was leaving. She wasn't listening to him as he told her to stop. Sheldon resorted to the one last maneuver he still had to get her to stay. He grabbed onto her hand, and even as she tried to pull away towards the door, his superior leverage had them both moving towards his desk. With one hand, he fumbled in the desk drawer for the ring box he knew would be there.

His need for completion taking over, he knelt on one knee as social conviction necessitated even as his one hand fumbled to open the ring box. He couldn't look up at her or he would loose his courage to do this; if he had he would have seen the warning expression there.

"Amy Farrah Fowler, will you marry me?"

Given she already accepted, he then stood up, gave her a quick peck on the lips, and slid the ring onto her finger.

Angry Face Amy was back. Damn it. What was wrong with her now? She wanted him to propose. He did. Nothing ever made her happy.

"I didn't say yes, Sheldon," Amy said. She made to pull the ring off.

"Yes you did. No takebacks," Sheldon argued. He brushed her hand away, and though Amy could have easily fought him off, the ring remained on.

What was she thinking? Sheldon Cooper proposed to her. He took her acceptance for granted, one of his personality quirks that she knew annoyed others for once annoying her too. But her boyfriend wanted to marry her. For Sheldon Cooper, that was a Big Deal. Annoyed though she was at his presumption, he was right about one thing: her answer was yes. However, a part of her was still worried about his reasons for proposing. It could simply be his fear of change kicking in as he sensed the fundamental shift in their relationship that night. She needed to be sure he understood what he was getting himself into.

"Sheldon, you realize that once we marry we'll live together?"

"Drat," Sheldon said. He hadn't thought of that in his spur of the moment propose-to-Amy plan. However, he knew married couples lived together. It was a non-optional social convention. He learned to live with Leonard. He was forced to put up with Penny. Compared to the two of them, Amy was much better. She would not require as much training with her advanced understanding of his schedules.

"Alright. Once we marry you'll move in here." Once he made up his mind, he did not falter. He could not stomach the added change of moving somewhere else and he disliked her apartment. Amy would have to move in with him.

That was easier than Amy expected. She thought he'd whine and complain, but he didn't.

"I'll expect to have coitus with you." Amy thought for sure that would scare him off his crazy marriage idea.

Sheldon knew that too was an expectation of marriage. He was already prepared for it.

"I have not ruled out the possibility."

In Sheldon speak, that was paramount to him agreeing to take their intimate relationship to the next level at some point.

"I want children, Sheldon. They won't follow your sleep or bathroom schedule."

There. Sheldon certainly wasn't ready for the chaos a baby would bring. He liked his schedules and the certainty they promised. He needed them.

This statement had Sheldon the most conflicted. He swallowed back his automatic reaction of disgust and disapproval. Children, of all things, he and Amy had talked about before. They'd talked about creating the possibility of their intellectually superior offspring in a test tube. Then they'd talked about having babies on the moon and being the parents of the first Martians. This, too, was a logical step. The child he and Amy produced would be a gift to humanity and, more than that, he wanted to have a child with her.

"I . . ." Sheldon swallowed "I have not ruled out that possibility either."

Amy was stunned. There were no protests she could voice. For whatever reason, her boyfriend was serious. His fear of the change at war with his desire to marry her. She could not say no. Not anymore.

"I'll marry you," Amy said, just to be clear he understood.

Sheldon looked confused. Why was he always confused when he was around Amy Farrah Fowler. No one else was that frustration.

"But you already said that."

"I know."

"Why are you repeating yourself?" Sheldon asked. Was Amy sick? Did she have some problem with her short term memory? She did not have an eidetic memory like him but she normally did not forget such things, especially when it came to their relationship.

Amy rolled her eyes, but it was not in frustration or anger but affection at her brilliant but still clueless boyfriend. "I need to tell Penny," she said.

She wanted to squeal in excitement. She'd been about to take a step back from Sheldon. Instead, she accepted a marriage proposal from him. Her bestie would know best how to help her understand everything that happened. Besides, she also wanted to brag. One discrete glance at her ring told her it was much more valuable than the ones Leonard and Howard bought for their girlfriends. She had to show it off, to offer some validation for her relationship with Sheldon and to say, 'See. You mock our relationship but look at us now'.

"Then off you go little lady," Sheldon said, a hint of his Texan accent appearing. He all but pushed her to the door to 4A.

Amy would have been upset with Sheldon, except he was now her fiancée. Of his own volition. One moment he was pulling her back into the apartment and the next pushing her out to go to her bestie.

"Bye Sheldon," Amy said. She tilted her head up expectantly.

"Goodbye, Amy Farrah Fowler." Sheldon looked down at Amy, confused as she still did not move away.

"Penny's room is over there," he pointed out when Amy still did not budge.

"Aren't you going to kiss me, Sheldon?"

"But we already kissed."

"But that was before we were engaged."

"But we already kissed," Sheldon repeated, a broken record.

"Kissing your fiancée goodbye is a non-optional social convention, Sheldon," Amy finally fumed, just wanting him to kiss her already.

When it came to required social conventions, Sheldon did not disappoint. He drew her waist closer to him and kissed her. It was a chaste kiss, less intimate than the one on the couch, but they were standing in an open doorway where anyone could walk by and Amy understood Sheldon's problems with touching in public. It may have been chaste, but when Sheldon pulled back, Amy was still breathless.

"Do I have to kiss you each time I say goodbye?" Sheldon whined at last.

"Yes," Amy snapped. She expected Sheldon to argue that it was too much touching. He didn't.

However, she still heard his muttered, "Drat."

"Is kissing my wife goodbye also a non-optional social convention?"

"Sheldon!" Amy was exasperated with her new fiancé.

"I need an answer, Amy."

Amy was incredulous. Did he seriously just ask her that.

"Yes!"

"Oh. Double drat." Sheldon looked like a chastened schoolboy, but once more he did not make any move to protest.

* * *

Amy returned to 4A to say goodnight to Sheldon after sharing her news with Penny. Sheldon picked up some papers off the printer and asked her to join him on the couch. Curious as to what was in the papers, she sat at her spot on the couch beside him. He set the papers on the coffee table and she glanced down at the front page.

 **The Marriage Agreement:**

 **A binding document henceforth detailing the duties and obligations of Dr Sheldon Lee Cooper, henceforth referred to as the Husband, and Dr Amy Farrah Fowler, henceforth referred to as the Wife**

"The marriage agreement?" Amy questioned him. It was unsurprising Sheldon wrote a new agreement to account for the paradigm shift in their relationship, but with how quickly he produced it him must have already written it.

"Yes," Sheldon said, waiting for her to read. He anxiously wondered if she would like it and if there would be much debate over the changes. No matter how perfect he thought a document to be, Amy Farrah Fowler always had changes. She was never happy. "Aren't you going to read it?" he asked impatiently.

"Why don't you read it to mean?" Amy asked instead, though she wisely left of the real reason which was to spend more time listening to his voice. The voice she would get to hear for the rest of her life.

Sheldon looked at her quizzically but he complied with her request nevertheless. "Very well. Article I section 1: Surnames. The Wife shall change her name to Dr Amy Farrah Fowler-Cooper until such a time as the Divorce Clause is enacted by the Husband or the Wife. All future progeny (refer to article I section 2) will bear the surname 'Cooper'. . ."

* * *

AN: A short, less angsty alternative to the much longer story I'll be posting soon.


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